


Man, I feel like mold

by Ship_theboybands



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:19:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3334841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ship_theboybands/pseuds/Ship_theboybands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing fourth period to chase a giant pink bunny around the sports field is not the way he'd predicted to spend valentines day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man, I feel like mold

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what this is
> 
> (actually i do it's a love letter to geordie gray disguised as a cheesy valentines muke fic and i'm not at all sorry)

Michael’s blanket burrito is warm and safe and he is never leaving it.

“Get the fuck up,” Geordie sighs, kicking at him with her docs.

“OUCH,” Michael screams, rolling onto his back, still swaddled by the blanket, and meeting her unsympathetic expression.

“I’m not sitting alone at lunch on valentines day you oink, get the fuck up,” She glares.

“Oink?” Michael asks, “also I’m pretty sure Darren from spanish would let you sit on his lap.”

“Darren from spanish smells like ham, get _up_ ,” She tugs at his blanket, successfully unravelling it with her superhuman cool girl strength. He thinks she absorbs her power from, like, nail polish fumes and the sound energy produced by vinyls. 

“But it’s _cold_ ,” Michael whines into the carpet, “and school is _hard_.”

“Get up,” Geordie replies predictably. So Michael gets up, pulls on some random items from the floor, and follows Geordie like he has done every morning for the past four years of his life.

 

They stomp along the pavement, and Michael imagines Geordie wishes it was, like, the patriarchy, or the career of that one country band who’d pretended their gig was a secret Sticky Fingers show that she and Michael had skipped art class for.

“Guess what?” Geordie asks, sounding as apathetic as it is possible to sound whilst using the phrase _guess what_.

“What?” Michael indulges her,sounding equally excited and still not fully awake. 

“Jenny Newman’s boyfriend got her _roses_ ,” She mock swoons, holding up her phone to show him the photo she’s posted on Instagram.

“ _Roses_?” Michael exclaims, grabbing Geordie’s arm, “Why has no one ever thought to get their significant other _roses_ on valentines day?”

“I know, right?” Geordie enthuses, “It’s so original! I mean, who wants an actual thoughtful gift that’ll last more than twenty four hours when you can have roses.”

“We take the piss, but if someone actually did that for me I’d probably cry,” Michael admits.

“Really? Even Kenney Branson?” Geordie questions.

“Geords, if the soccer captain and sporting legend of our unworthy school were to even _glance_ at me for longer than the second it takes to call me a faggot, I would drop to my knees for him then and there,” Michael insists, mock earnestly, and Geordie collapses into a fit of giggles. “Geordie, please don’t laugh, he’s the love of my life,” he continues, and Geordie laughs harder, “I just want him to split a can of Monster with me and let me into that cloud of Axe body spray that follows him around!”

“Stop, stop, if I cry my eyeliner’s gonna smudge,” She complains, shoving him into the road in the most affectionate way one can shove another into the road.

 

There is a note in Michael locker. He stares at the red envelope for three and a half minutes before Calum Hood from band pokes his head over Michael’s shoulder.

“Aw, you got a valentines card!” He says, like he and Michael are friends instead of just locker neighbours and occasional lab partners.

“It doesn’t smell like dog shit so I’m guessing it’s either filled with sand or craft glitter,” Michael replies.

“Craft glitter actually sounds kind of cute?” Calum looks confused.

“You ever tried to clean that shit up? Geordie’s year nine art project included covering an old tv set with it and I’m _still_ finding it in my carpet.” Michael explains.

“You know, Geordie Gray is really cute,” Calum says like it’s something new.

“Yeah. She’d also rather dance barefoot on Lego than go on a date with you,” Michael says frankly, “Nothing personal, she just doesn’t date,” He amends, noticing Calum’s kicked toddler expression.

“Oh, ok, so you gonna open that then?” Calum barrels on.

“Nope,” Michael says, putting the envelope carefully on the top shelf of his locker and retrieving his books. There’s no residue left from whatever’s inside it, so it’s probably not craft glitter.

“But what if it’s something nice?” Calum argues.

“Have you ever met me or seen anyone interact with me besides Geordie and, like, you?” Michael asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Calum sounds like he’s seeing where Michael’s going with this.

“Then you know why I’m binning and or burning this thing,” He finishes. Calum opens his mouth like he’s going to complain again, which is weird because Calum and he aren’t friends, when the bell for first period rings.

“Welp,” Michael says, as a way of farewell, and joins the slow and stinky current of teenagers heading to class.

 

“Darren from spanish sat next to me in spanish and he smelt like ham,” Geordie complains.

“Hello to you, too,” Michael smiles, and she pokes him in the side.

“This is serious. He asked me out _again_. Not even on a date, this time. He asked me to the _dance_ ,” Geordie whines, “How many times does a guy have to hear ‘I don’t date’ before it’s drilled into their thick skull, god,”

“You want me to rough him up?” Michael offers, taking two doughnuts and putting one on each of their trays, “With my words, obviously. I’d let him know _exactly_ how much he smells like ham,”

“Thanks for the offer but I think he’s just drop kick your tiny hobbit face,” She sighs, hip checking him to grab two portions of fries for them.

“Since when does Darren know kick boxing?” Michael grumbles, leading them over to their usual table, but stops in his tracks when Ashton Irwin dressed in a pink bunny costume starts to approach them.

“He’s not heading for us, is he? Darren wouldn’t actually be that stupid, would he?” Geordie asks desperately, her voice high pitched and panicked.

Ashton Irwin’s one and only contribution to the school is going round dressed in various costumes delivering messages, sometimes in song, on every holiday. At christmas he’s an elf handing out candy canes, on Saint Patricks day he’s a leprechaun handing out four leafed clovers. On valentines day he is a pink fucking bunny handing out _roses_.

Michael’s about to suggest they run when Ashton jumps up onto the table in front of them and shouts his name. The cafeteria goes silent.

“Michael Clifford,” He declares, which is such a shock that someone on a nearby table actually gasps. “I know that to most you appear grumpy and unmoved by life in general, but I honestly think you’re the most beautiful and passionate person I’ve ever seen. I’m too scared to talk to you though, ‘cause you’d probably hit me or something. From, your secret admirer!” Ashton finishes, jumping down from the table and presenting Michael with a crumpled looking rose.

“I- what the fuck?” Michael says to no one in particular, feeling his face begin to flame. He looks down at the rose, then at Ashton, and then at the greasy faces of all the teenagers whose lives are boring enough to find this entertaining. His anger overpowers the urge to run and hide in a broom closet.

“Which sad asshole actually paid five dollars-”

“It’s actually 6 dollars if you want a long message like that,” Ashton interrupts him.

“Ok, Ashton, literally nobody gives a fuck,” He shoves the rose back at his chest,”Who paid 6 fucking dollars just to fuck with me?” Michael asks, glaring at everyone on the surrounding tables, looking for someone laughing.

“The person who ordered this actually seemed pretty sincere,” Ashton says quietly, at the same time Kenney Branson lets out a bark of laughter he’s been trying to hold in. This breaks the dam, or something, because then his entire fucking year is laughing at him.

“C’mon, Mike,” Geordie grabs his hand, pulling him away, and he lets her.

 

“It’s not like… it’s not like I actually give a fuck what any of them think of me, you know?” Michael chokes out after his third cigarette.

“I know,” Geordie says.

“I get it, you know? I’m the kinda effeminate bisexual guy with the weird hair and I only have one friend and it’s funny to fuck with me, but I just- fuck, I wish that the idea of someone actually being interested in me wasn’t such a joke,” He practically whispers the last part, staring hard at his feet and trying to will away the tears burning behind his eyes.

“Mikey, they’re sad, spotty little fuckers who are scared shitless so they take it out on the only person who seems to actually have their fucking life sorted, okay?” Geordie says, leaning against him a little, “And your hairs cool as shit, and we’re leaving in a year anyway, so just- none of them matter. None of them.”

“Uh,” Someone says from behind them, and Michael turns ready to knock them out, when he sees that it’s Ashton Irwin.

“Fuck d’you want?” Michael sniffs, because punching Ashton Irwin in a bunny costume probably doesn’t actually sound like a good time to anyone.

“I, uh, I just wanted to, uh, basically-,” He mumbles.

“We’re not actually going to assault you, spit it out,” Geordie sighs.

“I know who sent you the rose, and it wasn’t a joke, it was genuine,” Ashton says all in a rush. 

Michael takes a moment to process.

“What? Who did it?” Geordie demands, “I’ll knock their fucking head in!”

“No, you can’t do that!”

“Ashton-” Michael starts, but he turns and runs in the other direction. After a moment of baffled hesitation Michael and Geordie follow.

 

Missing fourth period to chase a giant pink bunny around the sports field is not the way he’d predicted to spend valentines day, but Michael can honestly say he’s been in weirder situations. 

Ashton sounds like he might be hyperventilating a bit, and Geordie has an actual glint of murder in her eyes. They’re running for about two minutes before Geordie gains on him, lets out a ridiculous war cry, and leaps onto his back. Ashton, to everyone’s surprise, continues to run.

“MICHAEL, HE’S FUCKING KIDNAPPING ME!” Geordie screeches, bashing at his head. It’s no use, as the bunny costume seems to be working as some kind of armour. Also, Michael is getting out of breath.

“GEORDIE BITE HIM OR SOMETHING,” Michael calls, slowing down.

“DON’T SLOW DOWN YOU LAZY FUCKER,” Geordie screams. And then Ashton trips over his own feet, and sends Geordie flying about a meter ahead. Michael speeds up, and lands forcefully on top of him, crossing his arms behind his back like he’s a cop.

“You said you _wouldn’t_ assault me,” Ashton groans.

“Who sent the rose?,” Michael wants to know.

“I d- I don’t know,” Ashton wheezes, just as Geordie appears next to Michael’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Michael asks, putting more weight on Ashton when he tries to use the distraction to escape.

“Nevermind that, who sent the rose Irwin?” She demands. Ashton doesn’t reply.

“Was it a girl or a boy?” Michael tries.

“Boy,” Ashton sighs.

“Are they… do I know them?”

“Maybe?”

“Is it someone in band?” Geordie asks. Ashton doesn’t answer.

“Are they in our year?” Michael tries.

“No,” Ashton grumbles.

“Wait a fucking minute, was it Luke Hemmings?” Geordie says, suddenly.

“Who?” Michael asks, at the same time Ashton’s says “NO!” with way more force than anyone telling the truth would. Michael moves off him and Ashton sits up slowly, still catching his breath.

“Luke Hemmings, he’s in band. He always stares at the back of your head during your solos,” Geordie muses.

“I have never heard of a Luke Hemmings,” Michael frowns.

“He’s, like, tall, and gangly, plays the trombone?” Geordie tries.

“He transferred here last month, uh, lip ring,” Ashton adds.

“Wait, hot tall quiff guy?” Michael asks.

“Yeah,” Ashton says excitedly, pointing at Michael like he’s a Cool Dad and they just won a game of charades, and then, “Shit, I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“Ok, calm down Hagrid,” Geordie laughs at her own joke.

“Why the fuck would Luke Hemmings want to embarrass me like that?” Michael demands, feeling less angry and more just, like, confused.

“I’ve already said too much,” Ashton says, looking way too serious for a dude in a bunny costume.

“Calum Hood,” Geordie pipes up, “He’s Calum Hood’s friend!”

“Hey, I’m their friend too! Why does everyone always think he and Calum are best friends, we’re a fucking trio-” Ashton starts, before Michael’s running back in the direction of the building.

 

“Oh, hi, how’s-” Calum starts nonchalantly, turning away from his locker, before Michael’s glare stops him. Calum’s already wearing his band uniform, and Michael vaguely wonders if he’s late for practice.

“Where is Luke Hemmings?” Michael asks, “What is Luke Hemmings? _Why_ would Luke Hemmings?”

“Uh, changing room, lovable dork, he’s into you?” Calum answers respectively.

“I swear to god, you dicks, stop fucking with me-,” Michael starts when he’s interrupted again by Ashton Irwin.

“Michael, wait, please don’t kill him!” Ashton shouts, punctuating each word with a heaving breath, skidding down the hallway with Geordie close behind looking somehow just as put together as she had this morning, although now vaguely pissed off.

“I’m not going to kill him I just don’t get why he’d want to-”

“‘Cause I’m into you!” Luke Hemmings squeaks, and Michael spins round to see gangly hot quiff guy from band at the other end of the hall looking even more flustered than Ashton and Calum combined. 

His face is red, and his quiff’s drooping kind of sadly,and he’s wearing his uniform, but it’s buttoned wrong. “And I now realise that, like, traditional grand gestures aren’t going to impress you, and that getting Ashton to call you out like that was actually a dick move, but I just. I like how you rise above it all, you know? And I think your really cute and you dress really cool, and. And I see you in art class and in band and you always look so, like, I dunno. You light up the room, or some shit, and I just wanted you to feel special, you know? I’m sorry.”

He says it awkwardly, ending each sentence like it’s a question, and he’s doing this weird nervous thing with his feet like some kind of idiot but… it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to him.

There’s a pause after he’s finished where he looks like he thinks Michael’s going to punch him in the face.

“You- you’re not fucking with me, right?” Michael asks, quietly, his voice sounding scratchy and small.

“I, _no_ , Michael, I would never,” Luke insists. There’s another pause, while Michael stares at his shoes. 

“Is he… crying?” Calum whispers to Ashton in the loudest fucking stage whisper Michael has ever heard.

“No, fuck off,” Michael spits, wiping his cheeks furiously, and Geordie punches Ashton in the stomach before he can intervene.

“Again! Assaulting me!” Ashton complains.

“That dumb card in my locker, that was from you?” Michael asks, trying to gain his composure.

“Yeah… I, um, I promise it’s not craft glitter.” Luke bites his dumb lip ring into his mouth.

“I didn’t even know your name ‘till, like, five minutes ago. I just thought of you in my head as hot tall quiff guy.” Michael admits.

“Oh,” Luke laughs, running his hand through his hair nervously “then maybe did you wanna, like, go get some pizza or something?” Luke asks.

“He’s not going on a date on Valentines day!” Geordie shouts.

“No, yeah, that’s true,” Michael rubs at the back of his neck.

“We could all go see a movie tonight,” Ashton suggests. Everyone looks at him with the expressions you would expect on their faces at such a suggestion.

“That would be really fucking weird and not the logical solution at all,” Geordie replies frankly.

“You got anything better to do?” Calum asks.

“Not really,” She shrugs, “But I don’t date, so don’t either of you band nerds get the wrong idea.”

There’s a pause.

“So the movies? Tonight?” Luke asks, and Michael realises he’s asking him. Michael stares around at them all, stood in the hallway like the cast of a fucking sitcom, or a super alternative comedy sketch or some shit, and sighs.

“This is awkward as fuck, god, fine,” he grumbles, still a little choked up.

Luke smiles at him like the sun’s shining out of his goddamn ass, and Michael rolls his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> listen thank you for getting to the end of this i don't know what happened either like??
> 
> title is from teenage dirtbag by wheatus 
> 
> pls hit me up on tumblr @ mastercardmichael i promise i can be better


End file.
